Make A Move

I’m finally doing it. I’m making steps toward moving out of my parents’ house. It’s not the ideal situation, honestly. The plan was to move once I found a house I wanted to buy and could do so without having to work multiple jobs. Alas, that is not the case. The second job has been found, the apartment shortlist is down to two and as soon as I get that chunk of change from the part time gig I’m saying adios to Casa del Whitley.

I have mixed feelings on the whole thing. The question of why I couldn’t have the type of parents who were happy to see their offspring grow and thrive and become their own person in their own place living their own life is always at the forefront of my mind. But the why doesn’t really matter now, does it? I would love to have the type of folks my friends have, who encourage and help them find a place without acting as if them leaving the nest is some sort of betrayal. But I don’t, and the decision to move instead is the result of an increasingly strained relationship with my parents and pressure (both internally and externally) to “grow up.” (I thought I was doing a fairly decent job on the “adult” thing: working, paying my own bills, no kids, no STDs… but anyway… I digress.)

The desire to escape for my own peace of mine is almost matched by the fear of not being able to handle it. What if I absolutely hate this part time job and end up quitting—or being fired? Yeah I’ll have enough to pay rent but what about eating? Gas to get to work? What happens then? Or what if something awful happens and I’m screwed because I don’t have any extra money to use as a cushion? I cannot—will not—go to my parents asking for help. In fact, I refuse to ask for help now. (After a bad incident with my father the summer after I graduated from college and was still looking for a job, I vowed to NEVER ask for anything from him and to reject whatever he offered. On GP I don’t ask momma for anything either, but I know if she offers something it’s because she truly wants to help, so I’m slightly more open to accepting.)

Whatever happens, the wheels are set in motion now. I hate the thought of giving up a (mostly) comfy life for one of (possible) struggle, but it’s so heavy on me that if I don’t make a move now I never will. Trying to make up for lost time, overcome stunted growth…

Meh, I’m getting slightly emotional (read: pissed) and my thoughts are starting to jumble so I might as well just end this here.